The Force that Drives
by Happy fan
Summary: More and more blood oozed from his nemesis, small streams of it creeping out from the corners of his mouth. Harry should have felt fulfilled by this, content that Snape had finally been brought to justice—he felt nothing. SNARRY. DH SPOILERS AHEAD.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JKR. This fic is just for fun.

**For this chapter--**Some angst and violence. DH SPOILERS!

**Notes:** The first paragraph in italics is JK's work, not mine. Snape's journal entries are also in Italics.

**SPECIAL THANKS:** Suemonroeff was my amazing beta who really helped me out with this chapter. All praise her!!!!

**The Force that Drives**

"The alignment of one's mind with one's surroundings has repeatedly been proven to be the basis of all magic. Magic lives not with in the spell, but in the force that drives."-Karanina

_There was a terrible scream. Harry saw Snape's face losing the little color it had left, it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake's fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as  
his knees gave way, and he fell to the floor._

Only then, as blood gushed forth from Snape, did Voldemort pull Nagini back. With one last glance at his fallen Death Eater, Voldemort strode out the door his pet floating close behind.

With the coast clear, Harry emerged from the shadows, barely evading Hermione's panicked attempt to pull him back. He crouched over Snape's convulsing form, unsure of what he felt. God knows he didn't like the man, but something about what had just happened wasn't right.

The moment became even more unsettling when Snape's hand suddenly latched on to his own, the man's ebony eyes gazing at him with desperation, as if trying to communicate without words.

More and more blood oozed from his nemesis, small streams of it creeping out from the corners of his mouth. Harry should have felt fulfilled by this, content that Snape had finally been brought to justice—he felt nothing.

All Harry could see were flashes of Tonks and Lupin lying dead side by side, their boy, Teddy, never to know his parents, never to know the love of a true family because the war had cheated the boy and everyone else. It had ripped  
Fred away from the Weasley's, along with the comfort and hope he'd always seemed to emanate. Even Mad-eye, the craftiest and most vigilant wizard Harry'd ever known, had been ravaged by death on the battlefield.

All these thoughts rushed through Harry's mind in the blink of an eye, and a surge of power gathered around him, in him, coursing through his veins. The anger and anguish he felt swelled and the shack trembled in its wake, all the while his soul cried, "_No more…_"

Hermione gave a small panicked shriek, snapping Harry back to his senses. Behind him there were crashes, and he turned to see debris falling from the ceiling. Had he just preformed magic? Old memories from his childhood began surfacing: Dudley and the snake, blowing up Aunt Marge, they'd all been  
instances where he'd done wandless magic, his emotions taking charge of his magical energy.

Then, as if to answer his silent question, Snape's hand twitched in his own. Harry turned so quickly he swayed with dizziness for a moment; sure his eyes were deceiving him. Because what he found could not possibly be true. Severus Snape lay on the dusty floor fully intact and no longer bleeding.

* * *

One year later

Taking a drink of tea, he sighed in momentary bliss before hunching over a scaly, black book once more. His eyes devouring the content between its pages, each word making Harry's heart race:

Harry carefully closed the book, swallowing a lump of emotion. Even after nearly a year of reading Snape's journal he still couldn't believe this was the same man he'd thought he knew. The one he'd always seen as a greasy, git of a professor. No, the man who'd written those words was courageous and sorely misunderstood—his woes easily overlooked. By Harry himself in particular.

Who would of thought? Though, honestly, the man wasn't all peaches and creams either. Even on paper, he could still be a snarky bastard.

Stretching his hands over his head, Harry rose from his chair and walked to the kitchen, taking out dish after dish of food. Ron and Hermione were due for dinner any moment, supposedly they had fantastic news. So, with little  
effort, Harry set the table and put a heating charm on the grub. When everything looked ready he settled back down in to a chair, Harry's attention once again enticed by the words in the Snape's journal.

A subdued whoosh came from the fireplace behind him, and Hermione came barreling out, a little soot smeared across her face and about a dozen bags in her arms.

Harry threw the journal aside.

"I brought you some more blankets since it seems to be drafty in here, and the most wonderful bread I found at a bakery near by. Oh! And also some more candles, since this place doesn't have electricity and last time I checked  
you seemed to be running low on them."

"Hi to you too," Harry said with a grin, making Hermione pause in the middle of unpacking her many purchases. Turning around, her warm, brown eyes absorbed him and Harry immediately realized how much he'd missed her. It had been almost two months since they'd last met, despite having kept in contact by owl.

Walking toward him, she gave Harry a long hug, before saying, "Ron should be along in a minute, he was having trouble at the Ministry. Supposedly, men don't get maternity leave."

"Why would he need...," Harry stopped himself, his eyes widening.

"Yes! I'm pregnant!" Hermione screamed in an absolute fit of joy. "I wanted to wait until Ron got here to tell you, but I couldn't possibly wait. Oh! Harry." She swooped forward for another hug.

Ron arrived at that moment, stopping to take in the scene before him.

"Oy! I come for dinner and find my wife and you nuzzling each other!" Ron said this with a serious look, but Harry caught the biting of his lip.

"Damn! Way to ruin everything Ron, Hermione and I were just about to have a little fun!"

At that comment Hermione swatted Harry's chest with her arm, rolling her eyes.

"Actually, I just told Harry our little secret!"

"Congratulations!" Harry said happily, walking towards Ron, patting him enthusiastically on the back. "I'm sure the little tyke is going to be just like his (or her) parents."

"I'm sure it's going to be a boy," Ron said overconfidently.

"Ronald Weasley! What makes you so sure?" Hermione questioned in obvious annoyance. "It very well could be a girl!"

Ron gulped. "Sorry, sweetie. You're right; it could defiantly be a girl." Yet, when Hermione turned away to place food on their plates Ron quickly mouthed: "Defiantly a Boy".

Later on, after having their fill of food, they all sat on Harry's couch, chit-chatting about this and that until Hermione began squirming in her seat. Fishing underneath herself she pulled out a small black book, Snape's  
journal.

Ron immediately cursed upon seeing the book, turning to glare at Harry. "I thought you were going to quit it with this, throw the thing away!"

"I..." That was all he got out before Ron cut across him.

"Don't you see how obsessed you've grown over that journal? Damn it Harry! My own sister, who loved you more than anything, left you because of it."

"She obviously didn't love me that much,' Harry muttered.

With a quick shuffling of steps Ron was leaning over him, eyes ablaze with anger, before punching him smack in the eye.

"Ron!" Hermione yelled.

"No 'mione, he needs to learn and if I have to beat some sense in to him, I will."

"Shut it!" Harry suddenly shouted, holding his bruising face. "It's my choice if I want to keep this book, so quit it!"

"You're ridiculous, ya know that?! Snape's gone, disappeared to Merlin knows where and yet you can't seem to put down his rubbish!" Ron said, holding up his fist again.

"It's not rubbish, it's the truth!" Harry bellowed. "And I've been working on finding him!"

"For what reason?" Hermione pleaded, trying to understand.

Harry took a deep sigh, thinking how he could put in to words what he felt. "Unfinished business, I guess. There are things...I just need to know something. Plus, he killed Dumbledore on his order; it's all in this journal he left me."

"And you believe it," Ron asked.

Harry hesitated and then said firmly, "Yes. Haven't we been through this? What he wrote makes sense!"

Shaking his head angrily Ron managed to get out, "Whatever." Then sighing defeated, he asked, "The wars over mate, isn't it time to move on?"

Harry's hand clenched around the journal.

"I can't. Not until I find Snape."

Please review, thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning:** None for this chapter, besides DH Spoilers.  
**A/N:** Dream sequence, Harry's thoughts, and Snape's journal entries are in Italics.  
**Special Thanks:** To suemonroeff! What an amazing beta! roses her feet

* * *

**The Force that drives**

**Part 2: Quailway**

* * *

"Expelliarmus!" 

Around him Harry could hear heart-wrenching screams, some from onlookers, others coming from inside Hogwarts where a few remaining people still battled Death Eaters. Despite the chaos, he remained focused, watching the spell illuminateVoldermort'sfacefor a second in time, before the tyrant's body fell to the ground like a rag-doll, eyes open, but unseeing.

Instantly, cheers echoed around the grounds, however, Harry couldn't bring himself to rejoice, not when so many people he loved had perished. Sinking towards the ground he almost collapsed, but Hermione and Ron were at his side, embracing him. Relief flooded his body at their touch and he used all his strength to squeeze his comrades back.

Then, as if he had been watching this whole scenario from afar, the memory of Voldemort's defeat shattered. Shards flew in to darkness and suddenly Harry was standing before Mrs. Weasley. Sobs shook her body and instantly misery took hold of him. It was unbearable, it was suffocating and he could feel his own tears beginning to form.

Mrs. Weasley's puffy, red eyes eventually found Harry's and when she spoke her voice was nothing short of hysterical, "How could this of happened?" She paused, gripping her chest. "Why did my Fred have to die?"

Harry was speechless, his body frozen and his heart hamming with fear.

"Why!" Her shrill voice shrieked. She was stumbling towards him, hands outstretched. "Couldn't you have been the one…"

Harry quickly covered his ears, slammed his eyes shut, and began to back away. "No!" He howled. "It's not my fault!"

Shaky hands fisted his shirt and his eyes sprang open once more. He was now face to face with an unhinged Molly Weasley, who stared at him with a hate-filled expression.

"Your fault!"

* * *

Fighting to catch his breath, Harry sat up in bed, propping his head against a pillow. He slowly wiped the sweat from his face, unable to stop the trembling in his hands. There was a familiar aching in his chest along with a quickened pulse, which refused to calm. Though the nightmare had ended, he still felt out of control. 

The awful dreams had been occurring more and more frequently over the past few weeks, to the point where sleep was becoming a luxury. Frustrated, Harry got up and went to the living room, hunkering down in his preferred armchair.

Using his wand, he lit all candles in the room, watching the shadows they cast upon the walls. He concentrated on taking slower, deeper breaths, until he felt slightly more composed. Looking at the clock on the wall, he realized it wouldn't be too long until dawn. Sighing, he wearily thought about all the days' work ahead of him, hoping to smother the rancid thoughts floating in his head.

Contemplating the tasks Kingsley had dumped on him the day before, helped to clear his mind. It gave him a purpose, which was definitely something he needed at the moment. With Ron and Hermione married, his relationship with Ginny over, it felt as if his life was loosing meaning. The only thing left was his life as an Auror, except even that carried more than a few pitfalls.

* * *

Auror Headquarters, second floor up in the Ministry of Magic, was a buzz with busy people rushing to and fro. Through the chaos of bickering supervisors and flying memos, Ron walked towards his best mate.

"Rough night?"

Harry lifted his head off the desk leaving an obvious puddle of drool, quick to wipe away the remaining dribble on his chin. "'M fine," he grumbled, wishing his friend would leave so he could get a few more minutes rest.

Ron shrugged, and then set down a bag on the desk. "I brought you some lunch, since I'm on my way out early."

"Where are you going?" Harry couldn't help but be a little curious.

"Well," Ron leaned in, his voice dropping down to a whisper, "I got a really good deal on the new Swiftsweep! Best broom around I hear."

"And Kingsley let you go early because of that?"

"Err…no. I told him 'mione needed me for a doctor's appointment at St. Mungo's."

Shaking his head, Harry tried not to smirk. "Better hope Hermione doesn't unexpectedly firecall here."

Ron immediately blanched. "You're right! I better tell her what's up!"

Amused, Harry watched his friend race out the door, nearly colliding with Kingsley, who had just come off the lift.

"I need a word with you," Kingsley said in a slightly irritated manner, his deep voice bringing Harry to full attention. "Diggle told me you failed to file your report on last weeks Death Eater raid. And he also mentioned Wigmont has been waiting in his office all morning for you to show up. He has information on the magical disturbance just outside London, which needs analyzed."

"Sir, I'm sorry…"

"Don't apologize, Harry, I know you've been under a lot of stress lately, it has become very apparent in your work ethic. I'm ordering you to take a vacation."

Harry couldn't help but be somewhat relieved--_At least I'm not getting sacked._ However, taking a break from work didn't sound like a good plan, it was like asking him to stop playing Quidditch.

"Sir! Please, I don't need a vacation."

"Don't argue. You're of no use to me in this state. Always walking in here with circles under your eyes, practically dead on you're feet! There's no room for that in our line of work, you've got to be well rested and alert."

"I am alert! I've always been on top of things."

"Then why isn't your work getting finished?" Kingsley glared, not pausing for a response. "Don't fight me on this, or I may make your vacation more permanent."

Harry sighed and gave a slight nod in conformation, although he was still unnerved by Kingsley's accusations.

"Good. I expect you to be back here in two weeks, but before you go, stop in to see Wigmont and give him your opinions."

Aware he had no choice but to follow Kingsley's orders, Harry quickly said, "I'm on it." He grabbed his cloak and walked towards the elevator. Not looking back as he waved a hand goodbye.

* * *

Later that evening Harry stumbled into his house, hurriedly started a fire, and picked up Snape's journal. His mind was reeling at the moment and not just because of the firewhiskey he'd had on the way home. 

Earlier, when meeting up with Wigmont, Harry discovered Quailsway was where the strong magical disturbance had occurred. The name immediately triggered something in his brain. Shortly after, he remembered Snape mentioning it in one of his entries.

Hence his uncontrollable excitement as he searched the pages of the journal, until reaching the entry of January third:

_Quailway was a barren place with nothing but dead grass and never ending weeds. One dilapidated house stood in this sad place, with crows circling over head. To think Lucius would purchase such a house is unthinkable, yet today he did just that._

The entry went on to talk about Voldemort and his growing power, how Spinner's End was soon to be under investigation by the Ministry, and gave small mention of Harry's Occlumency lessons, which Snape had been giving him that year. None of that mattered.

Harry had found what he had been searching for: Quailway.

The chance that Lucius started the magical disturbance was slim, since the Malfoy's had long since uprooted and moved to France. Was it possible Snape had taken residence there? And if so, why?

There was one way to find out.

* * *

_

* * *

Dear Ron and Hermione, _

You've probably heard I required some unexpected vacation time, which is why I've decided to go away for a while. Do some site seeing, maybe even go see the Chudley Cannons play a few Qudditch games. Just kidding (I wouldn't go without you Ron).

Won't be gone long, maybe a week at the most.

Best,

He hated withholding information from his friends, but they would most likely want to come along if they knew the truth of the matter. Therefore, he'd written a very short, very vague letter.

Fishing out some owl treats he offered them to Pudge, who greedily scarfed every last one. The owl had been a gift from Ron and though he was grateful, the bird was nevertheless a burden at times. It constantly pecked his fingers and ate double the amount Hedwig had needed—Hedwig. He still missed his old friend, without her it felt as if a piece of his childhood was gone.

Passing off his letter to Pudge, she hopped on the windowsill and flew in to the night.

Shrinking his luggage to fit in the palm of his hand, Harry tucked the lot in his pocket. Taking one last glance around the place he'd called home (for close to a year now), Harry apparated to the train station.

* * *

Harry would have preferred making the journey on his Firebolt; gliding through the star-studded sky, perfectly oblivious to all reality. Unfortunately, his leg wouldn't allow it. 

Months earlier he'd landed himself at St. Mungo's with an injured leg. Some of the best healers had looked at him, only to say he'd been cursed with dark magic and the damage could be long-term. They then fixed him up with dozens of take-home painkiller potions, which fractionally helped his tender wound.

Later, Hermione had tried to look at possible remedies, but when even she came up short Harry lost all hope of recovering full function of his leg.

So, here he sat, partially crippled at only eighteen; it suited his luck just fine. Though, he honestly wasn't all that upset by it, since he had got to keep his job and could even ride a broom every now and again.

Except for times like these, when the pain bit at him like a thousand needles.

Digging through his bag, he pulled out a clear vial, filled to the brim with a blue, milky substance. Hastily, he downed the bottle's contents. Moments later the pain eased, which was lucky for him since the train stopped at that precise moment.

When Harry got off the train, he could hardly believe a place of such barren decay could be so close to London. Just like Snape had described in his journal, it was nothing but dead grass and weeds. The dilapidated house on the other hand, was no where in sight.

Sighing, Harry began trekking up a dirt path, the moon his only source of light. A quick lumos would have worked, but he didn't want to accidentally alert anyone to his presence. Especially more mosquito's, the little bastards were already eating him alive.

About three miles down the rocky path, he finally spotted a run-down house, its roof halfway caved in. Dead vines clung to the structure and no lights could be seen from any of its windows. The place looked as if it had been completely deserted.

Harry's shoulders slouched and he fisted his hair.

"I came out here for nothing!" He screamed, suddenly irrationally angry. He spitefully kicked at the dirt.

After finally thinking he'd found a lead…but no. Instead he was in the middle of nowhere, aching all over. No Snape. No answers.

There was always the chance he could find some clues within the house, yet he couldn't help but be disappointed.

Harry made his way up to the porch, pausing a moment to wonder what he would of done if Snape had been here. There were many things he wanted to ask, but where to begin? So much animosity lay between Snape and him, how could he even attempt a civil conversation with the man?

While these thoughts floated around in his head, he didn't notice the missing step, ending up flying arse over tit. Looking left then right, Harry blushed, even though he was alone. Shaking off the dirt from his fall, he walked to the door, but before he could open it….

"_Stupify!"_


End file.
